Twenty-five.

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She just gave me a hug.

And whispered everything was.

Going to be ok.

It was only awkward.

If we made if awkward.

And she refused to make it awkward.

So we got over it quickly.

Well I suppose she did.

But me, not so much.

I couldn't tell her.

What she meant to me.

Now.

I couldn't tell her.

What kissing her meant to me.

Now.

We would just play pretend.

Which is a game.

She was particularly good at.

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